Triathlon
by Summoner Yuna FFX
Summary: The gang enter a Triathlon for the Las Vegas team. GSR, this is back in the 'ole days when nobody was 'dead' or had 'moved away'. Review and tell me what you think!
1. Bad News

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigation**

**Triathlon **

**Chapter One- Bad News**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the CSI characters, locations etc.

Grissom chewed his lip as he sat behind his desk. What was he going to tell the team? Actually _how _would he tell the team? Surely they would want to murder him once he had gotten the words out of his mouth!

'_Damn Ecklie!' _he thought, _'That pompous windbag, this is __his__ fault, not mine! In the name of Albert Einstein, help me.'_

He gritted his teeth; this was how low he was getting. Gilbert Grissom knew he was getting nervous when he resulted to praying to the Science Genius instead of God. Sighing he gathered up his papers, clenching his jaw as he saw the very top one. Deciding it was just better that he get this over and done with, Grissom pushed away his chair and walked out of his office. Traveling down the hall, he entered the break room hesitantly.

"I told her to give it her all. So she just jumped up there and started performing" Catherine was telling Warrick as she sipped her coffee on the couch, "She was playing the Mother Mary figure, it was so cute!"

"I just can't imagine Lindsey playing God's mother" Warrick said squinting his eyes, "But she would play it well none the less."

"No Greg!" Nick exclaimed from the other side of the room in his chair at the glass table, "That game just blows! It has no turbo boosters at the checkpoint levels, and the ladies in Louisiana are fake as!"

Greg pouted, "They are not! They literally spell the word HOT, you should see them in real life though."

"Yeah that's _all_ youcould do Greg!" Nick teased.

Grissom shook his head, small snippets of their conversation were sure to drive him near nuts soon. It was like he couldn't filter it out; they just talked and talked and talked about the most _unimportant _stuff. But for a person who loved bugs, he couldn't talk himself.

'_Wait' _he thought, _'Where's Sara?'_

The room grew silent as he entered, the chatter dieing down. Grissom thought about Snape in the Harry Potter books. Did he really have that kind of effect on people as well?

"Hey Griss!" Catherine greeted politely.

"Yeah boss what-cha got for us today?" Greg asked, pouring coffee and hoisting himself onto the countertop.

"Where's Sara?"

"Sara's late" Nick sniggered, "For once in her life."

Grissom shrugged trying to show no concern, this was unusual for Sara. Normally she was never late, ever. But he knew she was fine, she had to be. Instead he turned to the team and prepared to tell them the news.

"Uh, before we get started, I have a bit-okay no, a lot of bad news."

Everybody's attention turned towards their leader sitting at the table, fiddling with his papers. Something Grissom never did. The room was silent, waiting for him to speak.

"And before I tell you all this, I'm just letting you know this was all Conrad's idea and fault. Not mine" Grissom made clear, "So don't complain about it to me."

"What is it Girss?" Catherine said, her curiosity hitting its high peak.

"Well earlier this morning I was approached by Ecklie and he told me about the yearly Triathlon, for all the labs that is, coming up in a couple of weeks" he started. As he said the word 'triathlon' almost everyone groaned.

"He doesn't want us to compete dose he!?" Warrick asked.

Grissom sighed, "Look I know how much you guys hate this sort of thing, but other Crime Labs all over the states, come to compete here in Vegas. You should have heard about it before."

"Yeah!" Nick said, "Some of the day shift went in it last year, and got flogged. Now, I remember that."

"Well, Ecklie wants the nightshift to compete this year and each of you has to run an event."

The team all groaned again, "Do we have to!"

"Yes Greg I'm afraid you must."

"Well what events are there?"

Grissom glanced down at the entry sheet, waiting to be filled out and returned to Ecklies office by the end of the shift. A list of 5 events lined the page, an empty slot for the competitors name right next to it, "Uh… first there's 'Rowing', then 'Cycling', 'Motorbike racing', 'Swimming' and then 'Running'.

Greg jumped from his seat nearly spilling his coffee, "I totally bags motorbike racing!" he exclaimed before Nick could even open his mouth.

"Damn it!"

"Alright Greg, you got the motorbike" Grissom jotted down 'Greg Sanders' in the 'MOTORBIKE RACING' slot, "Catherine what do you want?"

"Cycling" she said automatically, getting up from the couch to refill her coffee and sit back down on the couch. Greg who was sitting on the countertop, jokingly put his foot out and she smacked him a hard one to the head.

"OW!"

"Hey! Why does she get to choose first?" Warrick complained as the couch sank next to him. Catherine gave him an evil look.

"Because she's a lady" Grissom said curtly putting her name down, "Now Warrick what do you want? There's 'Rowing', 'Swimming' and 'Running' left, your pick."

Warrick titled his head as he considered, "How long are those courses?"

Grissom sighed and looked down at the sheet, "The rowing is down this small river to Vegas's west, it's around 4 mile. The swimming is in a nearby lake not to far from that, it has its own lap course there. And the running is into the most famous part of Vegas. The Desert and it's around a 10 mile run."

Everybody gasped, Nick snorted out coffee through his nose and had to turn away quickly to stop the stream of liquid pouring through his left nostril.

"10 miles!?" Catherine exclaimed, "I can't even run 1!"

Grissom shrugged, "At least I won't be running it. Alright, Warrick what do you want?"

"I'll do the Rowing" he said distractedly.

"Alright. Nick?"

"There's no way I'm running that far!" the most athletic man in the room shook his head, eyes puffy; "I'll take the swimming."

Grissom filled out the sheet, glancing at the only space left, "And that leaves Sara with the 10 mile run through the desert. Good lord."

Greg snorted, "Good luck explaining that one to her Grissom. You're gonna have no head by the end of shift. I certainly had my system cleaned out very well, a couple of days ago thanks to Sara."

'_As if I need reminding' _Grissom thought glumly. He was fully aware of the wraith which was Sara Sidle. It was only a few days ago when Greg had disabled the hot water in the lab while Sara was taking a wash after a messy shift, swearing that he didn't know she was in there when she had angrily confronted him. Later on however she had sought out revenge and snuck Wasabi into his burger and liquid laxative into his coke. And the poor toilets were shut down for the remainder of the shift, thanks to one man and his very messed up digestive system. Never again would Greg get on the wrong side of Sara Sidle. Well…sort of.

"Yeah Greg!" Nick laughed, remembering how badly the lab had stunk, "How much of that burger did you eat before you realized Wasabi was in there?"

"I was really hungry so I scoffed it all down!" he defended, "Besides I like a little spice in my food, but my god I don't like it _that _spicy!"

"Well, if you ask me I felt sorry for the toilets" Catherine sniggered. Everybody began laughing loudly.

"Sorry I'm late" Sara greeted striding into the room, "What's so funny?"

Nick sniggered, "The shit you do to Greg!" Everybody laughed harder.

Sara smiled, "Hey! He deserved it, _every_ time!"

"I did not!" Greg complained, "What about that time I had _just_ got that cute girl from the lab to agree to go out with me, and you walked up to her and told her I was gay. I mean she left the lab because of that!"

The others (besides stoic Grissom of course) gasped, "You did?" Nick exclaimed, "That's why she left?!"

"It's not like I forced her to move" Sara objected, "And besides I only did that because you made me run in the relay a few years ago."

The room suddenly grew silent, everyone suddenly interested in the floor or ceiling. Sara eyed their expressions wearily, "Why do I get the feeling running has something to do with why you all went quiet?"

Grissom cleared his throat bravely, "Because you have to run 10 miles in the desert for a triathlon we are all competing in."

"Well, talk about blunt" Catherine mumbled, turning her face into her coffee cup.

The others winced, waiting for Sara's outburst, "What?" she said blankly.

"Ecklie is making us enter a triathlon for all the crime labs in the state" Nick explained carefully, "Warrick is rowing up a river, Catherine is cycling, Greg is racing one unlucky motorbike, I am swimming around a lake, and since you were late today you get to run in the Vegas desert."

Sara stood there, "No, no, no! I can't run!" she snapped, "I've never been a good runner!"

"Well the competition isn't until another month, so you have plenty of time to practice" suggested Grissom.

Warrick sniggered and Sara shot him a dirty look. She stood there speechless, horror started to catch up with her mind. Why should she? Wait, it was Grissom who had gotten her into this, what was he doing? "Grissom" she voiced out loud, "And what are _you _doing?"

He sighed as Sara glared at him coldly, "I will be supervising you all. Following you all as you go along and encouraging you on as a real boss should."

"What, so you're going to swim next to me and be my personal cheerleading squad?!'" Nick said sounding worried.

"Don't be silly!" Grissom sniggered, "I said I'll be there _watching_ one way or another, following your progress."

Catherine's mouth dropped from her cup, she shared a glance with Warrick, "So you don't have to compete!"

"Nope" Grissom said triumphantly, "Only you guys, since I _am_ supervisor. And besides I have lots of work to do while you all get training."

**TBC**

**A/N: This was a completely random thought and my first fanfic. But this actually happened to me at school once; I had the running part which wasn't that great. But for this story I exasperated it a little. Well, review and tell me what you think. The next chapter will be up soon!**

**Sar'z**


	2. Practise For Perfectionists

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigation**

**Triathlon**

**Chapter Two- Practice for Perfectionists **

"Man I don't even know how to work this thing!" Warrick snapped to the people standing on shore.

Nick and Greg covered their faces, in an effort to hide their laughter from their struggling friend in the canoe the team was watching. They all snickered as the edge of Warrick's canoe hit a rock and he was pushed further back by the current. He swore very loudly as his float hit the back of his supposed start line.

"Hey foul mouth!" Sara called, "You might wanna practice harder. You do this at the race and we're gonna come last!"

"Hey! I'm trying but this no good piece of-"Warrick cursed.

"Don't blame the canoe Warrick!" Greg laughed, "Blame the user!"

"Well, if somebody would swap with me…" he eyed Catherine who was sipping her starbucks coffee.

Catherine shook her head smugly, "Nope, no way. Don't even think about it. If I tried what you're doing now, I would look demented."

The team laughed softly at her words, and continued to watch a distressed Warrick. Their laughter only increased to a dull roar when he capsized the canoe.

"You people have a lot of work to do" Grissom sighed shaking his head, as Warrick emerged dripping wet and supporting a bruised forehead.

"Damn!" he shouted loudly, slapping the water angrily with his free hand.

**Sara Sidle**

"Why are you two here again?" Sara asked groggily, shoving on her joggers.

"Me and the team felt bad about you getting the running part" Nick explained slowly, "So me and Cath are here to train you."

"I don't need training!" Sara complained, "I need sleep! Oh, look the sun isn't even out yet!"

"I've never heard you say that Sara." Catherine laughed shoving Sara out the front door.

"So you're gonna be my 'coach', huh?" Sara asked sarcastically turning to Nick.

"That's right" he nodded. They were out on the street, a few stars still twinkling over the desert city of Las Vegas. At least it was still cold.

"Then why are you here?" she turned to her right, where Catherine was leaning against a wall.

"I don't know. I'm the 'assistant coach'" she said lazily, "Besides _I _need the practice too." She patted the mountain bike by her side.

"So you guys are gonna follow me on those?" asked Sara looking at the bikes, with their large wheels, "How am I supposed to keep up with those!?" she looked to her 'coach' for help.

He only nodded toward the street, "Go on, get running."

"Wai- Isn't there some sort of special technique?"

Nick stared, "Yeah you put one leg in front of the other over and over again really fast."

Sara quirked her eyebrow at him, "Guys I'm not a baby. I can do this."

They both looked at her and she realized she would never win, so with a huff Sara started running, doing exactly what her 'coach' had advised. Catherine and Nick rolled their eyes and got onto their bikes, following her once she was a good 10 paces ahead of them.

"You know?" Catherine told Nick as they came closer to Sara, "This _is_ good practice for me to."

*

A week later Sara was cursing under her breath as she jogged down the street, her thighs felt like they were on fire. She had managed to narrowly miss a car, escape a feral dog which chased her down the length of the road and ducked a bunch of magpies which swooped on her in a local park (much to the amusement of the little children playing in a nearby sandbox). She was panting and she hadn't even reached 3 mile's. How was she supposed to go the entire way in the race? She knew it was a hopeless task, why had they chosen her to do the running?

'_Well' _she thought, _'They are __soooo __gonna get it when I'm through with this!' _

With a new determination she jogged harder and faster, ignoring the growing stitch in her side. Almost colliding with a brick wall as she sped around a corner…

**Greg Sanders**

Greg took a deep breath and walked into 'Moron Mikes Motorbike Madhouse' a shop specifically designed for all motorcyclist goods…and the morons who shopped in them. Surprisingly Greg knew how to ride one, and he was proud to say it had come from his years as a "young punk" (quoted by Gil Grissom). And he was pretty good at it to.

'_The only problem' _he thought, _'Is the costume, gotta look pretty for the ladies.'_

He glanced over at the wall containing all the different coloured motorcyclist costumes, with their protective leathering and fancy laces. He strode up to the wall and began his search, by the end of it only three out of the many he had searched through, had caught his eye. The first one was a plain charcoal black. The second one was also black but had some interesting red patterns skimming down the sides and legs, the third one however was so shocking it would instantly catch your eye a hundred meters from where it was stationed. Every fiber of leather was coloured a fluoro pink. But which one to choose, it only dawned on him 20 minutes later that he didn't know what the team colours were. Flipping open his cell he dialed Catherine's number.

"Willows" Greg heard her say.

"Catherine, its Greg. Listen I just wanted to know what colours we're wearing as a team?" he asked, he bit his lip as he realized the team would never want to wear bright pink. Dejectedly he went to replace that uniform, halting his hand as he processed Catherine's reply.

"Oh, uh…we're not sure yet" Catherine said distractedly, Greg could hear Lindsey in the background begging her mum for a candy, "You wanna choose?"

Greg smiled, he could sure use this to his advantage, "Well yeah okay I will. I choose fluoro pink. If that's okay with you?"

Before Catherine could answer he quickly continued, "Great! Well now I'm sure your busy Cath be sure to tell the others. Okay bye bye." He hung up before she could protest. Chuckling as he put away the rejected costumes, sighing contently.

'_Now for the helmet' _he thought wandering over to another section of the store. This was gonna be fun…

**Catherine Willows**

After dragging Lindsey out of the candy store, Catherine dropped her wailing daughter off with her mother in law and was now at the gym on an exercise bike. Training with Sara in the mornings had exhausted her. Not only was Sara too _slow_ for the bike, but trying to ride in pace with the brunette had cramped up Catherine's muscles. Riding the exercise bike proved harder than it looked, with eight different levels. Catherine dragged her feet round and round in continuous circles. How much of this was she supposed to endure? She sincerely hoped that in the race she wouldn't topple the bike over and cause one of those stack ups you see so often in cyclist racing.

The heat crept to Catherine's cheeks as she spotted a bunch of young men behind her, their eyes flickering to her backside as it worked to move the muscles. She sneered in disgust; there wasn't any respect in society these days. And she was equally amused with Greg's choice of colours. Of course, she had mentally cursed herself when she had allowed him to choose the colours.

The others would be angry for it. Oh well! Everybody makes mistakes, Catherine wasn't perfect.

"_Screw them!" _she thought, her anger making her peddle faster.

**Nick Stokes**

Nick stood by a couple of silver benches, his gear sprawled around him. He glanced up while smearing on the last of his sun screen, there was a long 100 meter lap pool a few meters to his right. A few swimmers were in there now even at these early hours. Nick was pretty confident Sara would keep up her exercising and be able to run the length of her course. So Catherine and himself had stopped her 'personal training' in just over a week, since they needed to train themselves. Anyway she told them not to worry and she would be able to handle it, no problem.

In his youth Nick had been a good swimmer, he had to admit. And the ladies sure did like it when he walked around wearing nothing but swim shorts. Even now in the local pool, he could spot a few of them eyeing him, giggling and talking behind their hands.

'_To busy to play cat an' mouse ladies' _he thought. Sighing he put away his sunscreen and organized all his items, locking most of them away. With everything in check he hitched up his goggles and walked over to one of the vacant lanes in the pool. He put on his underwater glasses; the chlorine in the water always did funny things to his eyes. He knew that in the race, being in the fresh water would mean he wouldn't need them. Perching on the edge of the pool he decided he would start easy with a backstroke for a warm up, then progress into freestyle as he went. This was the technique he was planning on using in the actual event.

Taking a deep breath he plunged into the water. He had always loved that weird feeling which came over him every time he dived into the liquid. Like there was suddenly a whole new way of moving his body. Settling himself down, he thrust his hands around in circular motions. One going over his head, then plunging back into the water, before the other one would repeat the process. His strong stocky legs kicking smoothly against the water current, like the flippers of a dolphin. And he was off…

**Warrick Brown**

'_This is a joke!?' _thought Warrick, pulling his arms back and long hairy legs cramped up every time he went for another row. Warrick was on a practice machine in the athletics centre, after the little performance earlier he thought it was safe to assume he needed training _out _of the water before he actually got _in_. This proved sufficient enough.

'_Back' _Warrick thought as he roughly jerked the paddle toward his chest, _'Forward'_

He wondered why he had chosen canoeing in the first place. It was better than running for sure, and Warrick hated water. He was like a cat, the problem was whenever he got his hair wet it became wild and out of control more than it already was. He glanced around at the gear they had to dress up in, and doubted he could fit his hair into one of those helmets. He had always had trouble with helmets, even when he was young…

**Gil Grissom **

Grissom sat comfortably at home, flipping through some report papers. This was the last one, the last sheet of paperwork he had to fill out before he was free from it for the rest of his time off. He smiled contently as he wrote the last word, flipped the cover shut and threw it on the stacked pile of completed work. That should do it. He got up from the sofa and walked over to a bookshelf of his, picking up the first book which came into his view.

He withdrew It from the shelf and walked over to a chair, settling himself comfortably in the cushions and wondering what his team were up to lately. He snickered.

**TBC**

**A:N/ I've edited as best i could, sorry if it sucks.  
**

**Sar'z**


	3. Warrick Brown Soaked To The Bone

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigation**

**Chapter Three: **

**Warrick Brown **

"**Soaked To The Bone"**

Finally the Triathlon date arrived and the team were gathered together in their space amongst the maze of different competing teams. It was a boiling day in Vegas, as it always was. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, the sun battering UV rays down onto the earth. It was exactly the kind of day you would return home from, with skin tinged an ugly pink.

"Alright guys, do your best" Ecklie was saying, they all threw him a dirty look; "First prize is a sum of $50, 000 for the winning Crime Lab. And that's new equipment we certainly need" he smirked, "But don't feel too bad if nothing extraordinary happens, night shift have never won one of these things. That team over there have won for 8 years in a row. Don't expect a miracle."

Ecklie shook his head in amusement and walked away. Sara, Greg, Nick, Catherine and Warrick all looked over at the team Ecklie had pointed out. They wore bright yellow, each and every one of their members was tall, thin and blonde with thick tanned muscles. They looked more like an athletic team from the Olympics rather than a bunch of Crime Scene Investigators.

"San Francisco" Greg read out loud from their banister, and turned to Sara, "Hey! It's your old team."

Sara looked away, "Yeah. So."

One of the San Francisco members, a pretty woman with pale hair and dazzling blue eyes, looked up and caught all the gazes they were getting off Las Vegas. Her eyes traveled over each of them, and when they spotted Sara, she smiled, got up and walked over to them. Sara was looking off into the distance when she felt a finger tap her shoulder. She spun around, on full alert.

"Hiya Sidle"

"Oh, hey" said Sara, hiding her bitterness, "Never thought we'd run into each other at place like this."

"Surprises alway come and go" the blonde woman smiled, "So look at you now! Apart of the best Crime Lab in the States" the woman glanced around at all of the others, beaming.

Sara rubbed her nose, "Yeah. Guys this is one of my old colleagues, Cynthia Carter. Cynthia these are the people I now work with. Catherine, Nick, Warrick and Greg."

The others nodded their heads politely. Catherine noting interestingly that Sara had said 'people I work with' instead of 'friends'. She pursed her lips but decided to let it go, for now.

"Pleasure to meet you all" Cynthia said, "It's nice to get a look at the some of the countries best detectives."

She certainly was the sucker.

"Wall, anyways I should be getting off now" said Cynthia, "It's about to start."

To prove her point Grissom walked over his head bent over a clipboard, "Alright guys, race is about to start. And there's around 50 odd Lab teams competing so heads up."

He himself looked up and spotted the new addition to his group, eyes traveling back and forth between her and Sara looking for an explanation. Sara's stomach sank.

"Uh, Grissom this is –"

"Cynthia Carter" the 32 year old woman walked past her friend confidently to shake Grissom's hand.

"Gil Grissom" he said smiling.

"Pleasure" Cynthia bowed her head.

An awkward silence settled over them all, despite the loud noises everyone else was making. Grissom cleared his throat.

"Anyway team, you should be getting off to your checkpoints. It's starting in ten. Good luck to everyone and remember," the edges of his cheeks crinkled, "It's just a stupid race."

They chuckled, Cynthia joining in uncertainly.

"Shall I show you over to the team leader's area?" she asked him, her eyes gleaming. Sara glared at her.

"That would be nice" Grissom smiled at everyone, giving them the thumbs up, then walked off with Cynthia who looped her arm through his as soon as she could. The rest of them watched the two walk away.

"Always quick to latch on, that one" said Sara bitterly.

"Who was she anyway?" Catherine asked.

"It's your twin Barbie?" murmured Greg, behind his coke can.

"Wrong answer Greg" Nick said gleefully.

Catherine reached over and smacked Greg across the head painfully. Warrick smirked. What the poor guy had said was in a way true. Catherine in bright pink, with her strawberry blonde hair and pale skin strongly resembled the plastic doll which was every young girls dream.

Sara ignored them and turned to Cath, "She was one of my old colleagues"

"You don't like her?"

They all looked at Sara for an answer.

She sighed, "Nope. She's a bitch."

*

Warrick cursed as he walked out of the dressing room, his bright fluoro costume _really _stood out. The other competitors eyed him and parted as he walked outside into the bright sun. This wasn't good. There were hundreds and hundreds of people, competitors, coaches, audience and helpers packed everywhere preparing for the beginning of the race. Warrick looked over at the wide river bed; there were lots of narrow canoes waiting on the shore. He could already see his, typical.

"Are you ready?" asked Grissom.

Warrick had to clamp his teeth together to stop the laughter following through. But the bubbling sound ended up erupting from his nose.

"You look-" he just couldn't finish the sentence.

"Well thanks for the note of confidence" Grissom shook his head, "You don't look too bad yourself."

Grissom was wearing a fluoro pink jacket the same colour as Warrick's wetsuit. His pants were long and black, made of a soft material. It was something Warrick had never seen his boss wear once. Now he was strolling across the river shore as if he always stepped outside his comfort zone.

"Well thanks" said Warrick.

"Oh, almost forgot" said Grissom, pulling a pink tube from his jacket, "Don't lose this, you know what to do with it right?"

"Yeah, carry it all the way to Catherine"

"Nervous?"

"A little" Warrick squinted and looked at anywhere but Grissom. Admitting that was like telling his dad he had a crush, it was really awkward.

"Don't worry, you'll do fine" Grissom patted him on the back just as an announcer spoke over the loud speaker.

"_All competitors assemble at the start, all coaches gather in allocated area to be air lifted. The Triathlon for the International Crime Labs is about to begin."_

"The others are in place" said Grissom, patting the walkie talkie strapped to his chest, "Good Luck."

"Thanks"

Warrick turned and walked off, into the crowd to line up with all the others. It was comforting to be amongst other people who were wearing some of the same shocking colours as he was. Ten minutes later, they were all tensed up, the starter at the head of them, his gun held high. The sponsor of the race, a short stocky little man was standing on a podium was giving his speech.

"-and without further ado, let the best Crime Lab win!" he exclaimed.

The gun was fired in a puff of smoke and all the competitors scrambled over the start line as one big group, trying to get their floats in the water first. Warrick was jostled and bumped, but with his great height he managed to pull away from the main group and run over to his pink canoe. There was a safety helmet lying with a paddle at the bottom, this was something he despised. He pried on the helmet, trying to squash his wild hair into the small ball. By the time he had strapped the pink baton to the side of the canoe and dragged it into the water, there were already a few other people ahead paddling off down the river.

He cursed and jumped into his boat, rowing against the strong current. It was harder in real life, compared to the machines he had been using at the gym. Back and forth, back, forth, back, forth. His canoe sailed down, sliding through the water like a sharks fin. He remembered the techniques he had been learning for the past few weeks. He pushed against the water, twisting the paddle in his hand to push against the other side. But the hardship was lying ahead, rushing to meet him all too soon. A bend in the river.

Warrick's canoe was going to fast to stop so suddenly; he ended up brushing against the bank, the twigs of a tree trapping his canoe.

"Damn it!" he cursed as several other competitors overtook him.

It was with great difficulty that he pulled himself out of the tree and continued to sail on. Why anybody would do this as a sport, was beyond his understanding.

Just as his canoe was running smoothly again, he was suddenly jostled forward. Something had hit him from behind. Twisting around he saw it was a man in a long black float, sneering at Warrick with a twisted mouth.

"Move that trash out of the way!" he shouted, sailing clean past. Warrick glared him down and continued on, resisting the urge to smack the guy in the back of the head with his paddle.

He vowed not to let anymore people pass him for the rest of his run, if they did he might get homicidal. But to say the least, the ride was boring and exciting at the same time. He surveyed the scenery as he went along, enjoying the thin line of rare greenery along the bank shore. The water was very cold and clear enough to see the pebbles at the bottom, maybe being a couple of feet deep. There would be no drowned bodies today.

Warrick had lost track of time, and on more than one occasion he had felt the canoe wobble unsteadily or buck wildly as he went downward at acceleration, twisting his way through the bubbling water. He even capsized once, but luckily the water was shallow enough to quickly drain the canoe of liquid and get back in. He would _never _get in one of these things again!

Warrick was wondering how far there was to go when he heard a strange noise, the sound of helicopters was cutting at the air like a hurricane. He looked up. There had to be at least 20 or 30 choppers in the sky, flying in a scattered formation. They were all the team leaders. Somewhere up there was Grissom, looking down on the bright pink spot in the river like a god, while Warrick struggled. With this many helicopters it meant he had to be close to the end of his course. With new determination Warrick sped up, pushing harder.

"God damn it" he mumbled as he turned a corner.

There was wonder boy again, his canoe skating the water. Warrick ignored him and led his canoe side to side with the man, trying to gain the lead.

"Lookie lookie here" he snapped, "Isn't a piece of junk after all then?"

He gave Warrick's canoe one good shove with the end of his paddle.

"Yo, what's your problem man!?" Warrick shouted, shoving back.

They raced on, a corner was coming up. Warrick slowed down, not wanting to repeat his earlier performance. The cocky man sped up, grinning back and not seeing the bank coming up to meet his canoe. There was a loud crunching sound as the top of his boat cracked, the man was trapped by a bunch of tree branches, he couldn't budge out of his canoe in anyway. Warrick turned the corner and saw the finish line for his course up ahead. The water was shallow enough to walk in, so he got out and dragged his canoe to shore.

"You were sayin'" Warrick shouted over his shoulder at the frustrated jock.

As he neared the checkpoint Warrick breathed a sigh of relief. The cyclists were waiting a hundred meters ahead for their partners. He spotted Catherine easily, and she looked more like Barbie than ever now. Warrick's long muscled legs quickly covered the distance and he smiled clapping Catherine's outstretched hand.

"Get goin' girl" he said.

She winked and turned to hurry over to her waiting gear…

**TBC**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far, it's great to hear from you all. As always the next chapter will be up soon, and its Catherine's turn. **

**Sar'z**


	4. Catherine Willows Stack It

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigation**

**Chapter Four**

**Catherine Willows**

"**Stack It"**

Finally it was her turn! After waiting anxiously for what seemed like forever, Catherine was now bolting down the strip leading to the cyclists gear, their team baton in hand. She had counted maybe 25 people ahead of her as they dashed past the line. Catherine glanced left as she ran on, on both sides were low metal fences, which many spectators were gathered behind cheering their team on. She absolutely hated public displays! Especially when she was wearing tight pink pants showing her butt very clearly. Wasting no more time she dashed to her bike and clipped the baton to the side, like she had been instructed before the race. Unwillingly she pulled on the helmet, hopped on and was off.

The track was a smooth stretch of road, twisting like a snake through the more exotic landscape of Nevada, it wasn't anything new to Catherine. Riding a bike as some of you may know, isn't hard. Maybe when we were 2 or 3 it was, but after a while you get the hang of it. In a race such as this you cant just stop whenever you feel like it, you have to keep dragging your feel round and round in circles, until it seems like an endless cycle of wasted energy. Over the past week Catherine had learnt how to keep her mind occupied to ignore the stinging pain in her legs.

"O stands for oxygen, c is carbon" she recited, speeding down the laneway, "What do you get when you get when you mix a drag queen pretending to be an Amazon and a compete retard. Greg!"

Round and round and round and round for yards and yards. The noise of the front wheel spinning its cycle was driving her nuts and it was then that she wished she had brought her Mp3. Every now and then at a bend or a twist there was a stand of audience members, behind that metal fence again, cheering and clapping as she went around. Other than that, there was the occasional checkpoint where a person would be waiting along the track to ensure no cheating took place.

Catherine's legs were getting worn out fast, her breathing was shallow and it was making her slow down. Within the first ten minutes she had already drained the water bottle strapped to one side of the bike.

'_I NEED water! Ugh…Come on Cath snap out of it!' _she cursed herself, _'Don't let the team down! Don't let them down…'_

But it was no use, her muscles felt on the verge of collapse. Anxiously, she turned her head for a split second to look back. Adrenaline levels shot up in the woman's body as she saw other cyclists, gaining fast! She had to hurry up! She just couldn't lose this! But her determination was short lived as Catherine turned back to the track, and…

_WAMM!!!_

…smacked her forehead against an overhanging tree branch. The bike flew out from under Catherine and she landed hard on her back with a thud. A man a few feet away from Catherine tried to stop his bike from running over the helpless woman on the road. He fell of his green bike like a dead weight and the man next to him was thrown off his bike as he tripped over the fallen male. It all happened so fast Catherine could have blinked and it would have been over. It was more like a dominoes effect; all of the riders fell over either a human or a scrap of metal.

Catherine covered her head as a bike flew her way. After all the cries and shouts had ended, everything became deadly silent and peaceful again, she peeked up.

"Oh shit"

The whole road was littered with groaning half-conscience people, and a mix of bikes which looked like a 1970's junk yard.

"Crap" breathed Catherine, looking at them all. She had caused this. Several scrapes and scratches bruised her arms and her back felt very stiff. But other than that she was fine, these poor suckers though…

The glint of metal caught her eye and she looked down. Her pink bike was there, lying at her feet and it perfect condition. There was nothing for it, Catherine picked up her bike. But before she rode off Catj scanned the pile up and found what she was looking for. The green guys water bottle, and it was full. Smiling she unhooked it and hoped on her bike, riding away and gulping down the refreshment. Anyway he wouldn't need it anymore. She quickly peddled on so no patrol car would spot her, and within minutes she was well away, stiff back, bruises and all.

It only took half an hour for her to complete her course, but she didn't need to worry _too_ much about going fast. She wouldn't have anyone overtaking her for a while. When Catherine finally saw her finish line up ahead it was like watching the bright sun lighting the way to the gates of heaven.

"This is so stupid!" she cursed unhooking the baton, ditching the bike and running down to the finishing strip.

The crowd cheered loudly as she approached, waving American flags and whistling. A thought occurred to her at that moment. Where the hell had Grissom been? Didn't he say he would be with them every step of the way? Just then she heard a honking sound over the audience and Cath spun around. There behind her was a bulking four wheel drive; and Grissom was in the front seat with Warrick. They pointed ahead, and Catherine followed their gaze. Greg was waiting for her, impatiently tapping his boot. He looked dumber than ever, if it was possible! The young Investigator was dressed in leather, with bright pink patches where there was no protective gear. In one hand he was clutching an absurd helmet. It was one of the weirdest things Catherine had seen so far, and that was saying something as the person who was holding it came runner up. She quickly darted through the other waiting competitors (who would be waiting a long time), and over to Greg.

"Get goin'!" she puffed, doubling over as soon as she handed him their pink baton, "I'm through with this!"

He winked and gave her the thumbs up, "It's on baby!"

"Idiot" Catherine mumbled, watching him run away.

**A:N/ Hey guys, I hoped you liked it, sorry it was a bit short. There just wasn't anything interesting to write about cycling. But the next one (with Greg) is bound to be better (I hope), but ill leave that for you guys to decide. Thanks to all my reviewers, you guys are awesome. And yeah, next chapter will be up soon.**

**Sar'z **


	5. Greg Sanders Toxic

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigation**

**Chapter Five**

**Greg Sanders**

"**Toxic"**

Cynthia Williams wheeled about, her pretty yellow hair shimmering in the Vegas sun. She really hated this part of America; it was such a dry and pitifully hot place she couldn't stand it. She shook her head and focused on the wide screen TV mounted to the far brick wall. They could see the first of the cyclists coming in now, dropping their bikes and running for their partners. With dignified pride she could see her team member at the lead.

"San Francisco is cutting into a piece of the action here folks with a clear position of 1st place" announced the TV man.

Everywhere around Cynthia were murmurings of disappointment and wonder, some people even eyed her yellow uniform, which clearly marked her as one of _them_. She didn't care if she stood out like a beckon in the crowd; it wasn't her fault they all sucked. With satisfied pride she zipped up her vest and walked off through the onlookers of the TV screen (which had switched to the picture of a very large pile up) and onward to her SUV. It was time to get to her track course of the 10 mile running in the blissful scenery of Las Vegas. The course she would be competing in, against Sara Sidle, her former co-worker. That was another reason she hated Vegas, Sara. And like Cynthia Williams always, always said to the bad guys just as she caught them, 'her reasons were her own'.

"Let's go" she commanded the driver, who only nodded and started the engine.

The team from San Francisco were about to win yet again, and there wasn't anything anyone could do to stop them.

* * *

Greg tried to catch up to the other leading riders, he really did, but he might as well have been banging his head against a brick wall. He didn't want to let his team down, even though they treated him like a doll. He ran over to his bike, and equipped the baton to a safe section so it wouldn't fly back and make the engine explode. When he walked his bike to the track, there was nobody in front of him, nor behind. The pile up had ensured no one would be passing him for a while (thanks to Catherine). But what Sanders had to concentrate on was getting past the leaders of the race and giving Nick a good start.

"This is gonna be awesome" he said, looking down at the pink helmet nestled in his arms.

Greg hoisted it up, stuffed it on his head and pressed the 'play button on the side'. Music blared instantly and Greg twisted the handle of his bike a few times to test it out, fumes puffed out the exhaust like swirling clouds of stardust.

_Baby cant ya see_

_I'm callin'_

_A guy like you_

_Should wear a warnin'_

_It's dangerous_

_Im fallin'_

Yep, his helmet was inbuilt with an Ipod and everything. Greg had practically squealed when he had found it in that shop, causing all the tough Bikey men to stare at him with undisguised disgust. He kicked off from the road and his motorcycle went flying down the smooth road, the crowd cheering dramatically behind him, shrinking into the distance.

_There's no escape_

_I can't wait_

_I need a hint_

_Either give me it_

_You're dangerous _

_I'm lovin' it _

Oh, Greg was loving this! The music only served to pump his adrenaline and speed up. The dry, desolate scenery added to the music, shrub after bush was sent streaking past. The track was black cement, but sand and clay extended as far as the eye could see. It wasn't incredibly hot in his suit seeing as the sun was beating down on the land with a fiery fist. Greg had his fluoro suit to thank for that, so it had come in handy after all!

_To high_

_Cant come down  
_

_Losin' my head _

_Spinnin' round and round_

_Do you feel me now?_

Greg swerved around a corner and rode on. His heart soared as he saw a jumble of motorbikes racing ahead of him. He had caught up with the leading pack! This was his chance to show his friends he wasn't a moron! He managed to ride up in line with the back rowers, weaving in and out of them like a pro.

_With a taste of the lips I'm on the ride_

_Your toxic guns slippin' under_

_With a taste of a poison paradise_

_I'm addicted to you_

_Don't you know that you're toxic_

Greg laughed as a few of the other motorcyclists turned their heads to look at him, darting between them like a bullet, just like Britney Spears did in her music video.

_And I love what you do_

_Don't you know that you're toxic_

With a triumph cheer he overtook them all, kicking up dust from the soil of Las Vegas and parading on. He heard a few shouts of anger from behind him, but for all Greg could care it wasn't worth the trouble. He felt like he was flying, the two wheels spinning around in a perfect silver motion. Greg played a lot of those car games, 'Need for Speed: Underground", "Burnout Revenge" and let him tell you, the reality was far better than the fantasy.

Greg tore on and in another twenty minutes of dangerous fast riding, twisting through corners and climbing all over the Vegas desert landscape, his bike carried him closer and closer to his destination. The 'Silverwater Lake' to the 'Vegas' north, where Nick would be waiting. From what Greg could gather, he hadn't took the lead yet, there was still another 4 or 5 people in front of him, but he had certainly given their team a bit of leeway. The rest was up to Nick and Sara.

With a grin he entered the small stadium where he would finish his course with a circle of victory. This is where a flaw erupted in Greg's plan. There's a saying that says, 'Slow and steady wins the race', and quiet frankly it's true. Especially when you're driving a motorcycle at 120 miles per hour, and you're a complete idiot.

Greg was going so fast, he would have been fined in a heartbeat if this were the outside world. He drove his bike off a mini ramp, smiling as he sailed through the sky. The mid air motion was excruciating slow and he glanced into the crowd, to see if anyone was witnessing this glorious moment.

'_Oww! There's a cutie lookin' my way!' _he thought.

Just to be a total showoff of course, he let go with one hand and gave her the thumbs up. She stood and begun to pull up her-

Oh god! The motorbike landed on the hard gravel and Greg lost all control of the bike. It canoed into the side wall, sending the audience members scattering faster than Moses could part the red sea. The bike tore on, ripping through banisters and coffee tables, to finally crash right into the side of a public toilet, tipping the whole thing over. A very angry man with muscles as thick as telephone poles, kicked open the collapsed toilet door.

"What the hell?!" he shouted, pants still half down.

The people however were shrieking and running over to see if Greg was alright. He groaned and looked up to see his bike exhaling grey fumes; there was no way he was getting to Nick on _that_ anymore….oh crap, he'd have to run.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach he got up, wrenched the metal baton from the debris and weakly pushed his way through the crowd. His right leg hurt a lot but Greg ignored the pain and continued on limping down the track road, trying to filter out everything but the finish line only 100 meters away. Then he heard a noise, the grumbling of an engine. He paused momentarily to look back. There were 13 or 14 motorbikes shrieking their way toward him in bright flashing colours, like a trained pack of wolves seeking their prey.

Greg did the only thing a man about to be ran over by bikes would do. He ran, wincing with pain at every step.

"Shit!" he cursed, as his boot caught in a small ditch.

Greg tumbled to the floor; the noise of the bikes was getting closer. There was no way he could get out of the way in time. So he did the best thing he could do and curled up, tucking his head in. The motorcycles darted past in light speed, the sound of them splitting Greg's ears open. In a flash 14 of them had passed and a very ruffled Greg, clutching the baton so hard he almost bent the metal, stood up on his bruised and shaky legs.

"Great!" he said sarcastically. This now set Las Vegas_ back_ 14 places! His cockiness had come back to bite him in the ass! So much for his victory.

10 minutes later the only sound the former lab rat could hear as he thundered down his ending strip was his heavy boots _thudding _along the cement. That had been one hell of a ride! And if given the chance he would do it again! That's just how stupid he could be sometimes.

Greg ran toward the corner, the audience members trying to touch him like he was an internationally famous bike racer, instead of a geeky Crime Scene Investigator he was.

"Hey Greg, you alright?!" shouted a voice from behind.

He looked over his shoulder, and was faced with an enormous black car, Catherine, Grissom and Warrick peering out at him.

"Nice fall out there" congratulated Warrick, blaring the headlights as if he was going to run the skinny man over with the bull bar of the car.

"Hey, you can take the crap outta me once i finish this alright" he said in defeat, a smile creeping to his face.

"Hurry up!" snapped Catherine, "Or we'll run you over! I didnt stack it for nothin' out there you know!"

She looked serious. Grissom drove the car beside Greg as he hauled the remaining few steps and stopped, almost pissing himself laughing. Nick was waiting there for him maybe 20 paces in cute little pink swimmers which suctioned his butt in.

"Here ya cowboy!" Greg clutched his leg, hobbling over.

"Whats wrong with you?!" Nick asked as he took the baton and slowly jogged away, concerned eyes still on his team mate.

Greg shook his head and waited for Nick to turn around again, before bringing his hand to his mouth and…whistling. Nick jumped, snapped his head back and gave Greg a disbelieving look, quickly checking the audience to make sure they hadn't heard it. Greg almost fell over from laughing…

**A:N/ Thanks once again to reviewers. Sorry this one was late, I've been back and forth since its School Holidays and I wanna enjoy them before I go back to hell. I fed sharks the otha day! :D and went swimming with them!**

**Anyways, hope you like this chapter. Stay tuned for the next one, and its 'cute boy' Nick with his bumsucking undies next. **

**Sar'z**


	6. Nick Stokes Ripple Effect

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigation**

**Chapter Six**

**Nick Stokes**

"**Ripple Effect" **

This was his chance now. His chance to show the team, he would never let them down. Dependable Nick. It had an _okay _ring to it, but it wasn't as good as _Grotesque Greg, Fatmama Greg, The Idiots guide to Greg Sanders_, or anything like that.

Now if truth was told in all its justice, Nick might, just might have admitted his deepest darkest secret. His fear of the water. Ever since he had witnessed the death of a drowning man as a small child, he wasn't fond of the inky blue liquid which you could be so easily smothered by. The fact that all his life, a lake or a stream was close by and hung around like a daunting nightmare was terrifying for Nick. That was why the Nevada Desert was such an escape, a getaway. And he liked it here in Las Vegas even If he would never admit it.

"I will do this" he told himself, running to the waters edge, "I will do this for the team. Or so god help me, they're gonna chew my ass."

Nick paused just before he entered the water, and looked out over the lake. The lead swimmers were a lap or two ahead of him; if he was fast enough he could catch up. All around him the loud commotion of the audience, whistling, laughing, talking, shouting, eating, running, and cheering was louder than life itself. Gulping down his fear, Nick plunged in headfirst…and everything went eerily silent. The fierce iron hand gripped at his heart as the dark waters consumed him. It was all he could do not to bolt out of here, screaming down the high way like a deluded psycho.

But bravely he pushed himself on, and it was a relief to feel his head break up into the cool air.

"Let's get to it!" he commanded his body, tightly clutching the baton in one hand as if it was his life support.

Using his thick muscles Nick swam forward. He wasn't such a bad swimmer, in a public pool where everything was controlled and safe. It was mainly outdoors which made him edgy. He hauled himself along, kicking wildly and stroking hard. And in a manner of moments he was gliding along like a wonky fish, trying his best to stay on course.

The water was actually refreshing after waiting around all day in the endlessly blazing sun. But however cold it was now, the fear remained, and it was always gonna be there…

* * *

"I'm getting bored!" complained Greg, from the backseat of the car.

"I think its exciting" said Catherine training a pair of binoculars on Nick in the water, "Besides it's almost over, you sook!"

"Yeah I know, but it's a bit glum watching wonderboy swim at it for ages and following him around the edge of a river in a car. When is it gonna end!?" he demanded. Everyone ignored him.

"Hey Cath, I got a question" Warrick said from the backseat next to Greg, "Was that you, that caused the bike stack. I mean officials don't know, yet" he waved his hand toward the speaker hooked to the cars console.

Catherine blushed guiltily, "Hey it wasn't _that_ bad. Besides just look at what Greg did, I mean for god sakes he almost killed half the audience."

"Hey! Okay, that was soooo not my fault!" exclaimed the young investigator, "See there was this girl-"

"You crashed 'cause you were lookin' at some chick in the audience right?!" Warrick looked like he was about to smack him across the head.

Greg blushed and stuck his nose high in the air, "Yah! I mean she was H.O.T- ow!"

"Idiot" murmured Catherine, sitting back down in her passenger's seat.

Grissom had been silent the whole time, carefully concentrating on keeping the car on the unlevel track. He had to smile to himself at the team's 'chit-chat', sometimes they were like kids. A loud voice coming from the speaker broke through his thoughts.

"Grissom. You there!?" asked Sara, her voice full of static over the communication line.

Grissom quickly twisted a knob on the machine, "Yeah, where are you?"

"I'm getting ready for the run now" said the speaker.

"Well make it quick, Nick's on his last heat comin' in hard on second place"

"Second place?!"

"Surprise surprise" cheered Greg, jumping in his seat, "This'll show Ecklie, that self conniving pric-"

"We'll see you soon" Grissom quickly muttered.

"Guess so"

"And Sara" said Grissom as an afterthought, "Good luck."

There was a moments silence over the line, then, "Shut up."

The line went dead.

"She sounds pissed" laughed Warrick, "I don't wanna get in her way."

"I thought I was bad" murmured Catherine under her breath.

They all glanced out of the car again to check on Nick, who was taking long powerful strokes, his stocky body glistening in the water. The leading guy was maybe 7 strokes ahead now.

"You know if wonderboy in the pond keeps it up we'll hit first place."

"Yeah right" snorted Greg, shaking his head.

"No, no" said Grissom, "Warrick I think you may just be right."

Nick was level with first place now, pink and yellow undines aligned.

Catherine poked her head out the window, "Common Nicky! You're almost there!"

Warrick and Greg followed her lead, shouting encouragements out their window from the backseat. In a manner of seconds Nick had over taken Team San Francisco.

"And we have a new leader folks!" shouted the speaker, the commentators voice ringing loud, "It seems our home team Las Vegas is taking to the front in an attempt to break San Francisco's record. Keeping in mind the San Francisco team have held this for years, each and every one of them studying in a different type of professional athleticism-"

"Yeah like Ken and Barbie dolls" snorted Catherine.

"-But the question is, will Las Vegas be able to hold off until the end? Or is this just another dwindling hope?! Now, let's check out the other contestants-"

"'Dwindling hope' my ass!" shouted Greg, "Las Vegas will kick their butts!"

But just as quickly as their hope heightened, it was sent crashing back down. The guy swimming for San Francisco realized he was losing his pedestal and fast. Before Nick could swim out of reach, the strong muscled man reached over and grabbed Nick's leg.

"Bastard!" shouted Warrick, about to jump out of the car.

Grissom slammed the car to a halt as Nick spluttered and went under the surface, and with grim determination the San Francisco guy swam faster and faster.

"I don't see him!" screamed Catherine, "He went under!"

"Nick!" called Greg loudly.

The car stopped and four Las Vegas Crime Detectives jumped out, splashing through the shallow water and to Nick, who emerged splattering and choking out water.

"Son of a cowboy!" he cursed, rubbing his foot.

"Are you okay?!" asked Catherine.

"Yeah"

"He's already bailed" said Warrick, glancing at the yellow speck now far away.

"I won't let him get away with this!" said Grissom angrily, stalking over back to the car and ripping his communicator out, "I'll radio them in and tell them what's happened."

"I'm gonna try to finish" said Nick.

"You sure?"

The Texan nodded and his friends allowed him to slip back into the water. But it was no use. With this drawback, they were now back to square one…

**A:N/ Hope you like it, cause I don't. But thanks to all reviewers.**

**Sar'z**


	7. Sara Sidle Desert Run

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigation**

**Chapter Seven**

**Sara Sidle**

"**Desert Run" **

Nick's strong muscled body emerged from the water in slow motion, the water sprinkling off his tanned skin and running down his chest and thighs. It was like watching one of those ads for men's perfume, thought Sara. A few of the girls in the stands were sitting perfectly still, their eyes glued to him.

"Poor suckers" Sara smirked. She turned her head and looked at the starting line for her run. The Vegas Desert loomed after it, heat waves sizzling up from the hot red sand. A shrub or bush could be seen every now and then on the rough terrain and markers had been placed to show the way for the runners. Sara gritted her teeth as she saw a flash of yellow in the distance. The San Francisco team were gaining.

"Yo!" yelled Nick, quickly making his way over to her.

"What took you so long?" demanded Sara as he strapped the baton onto one of her armguards.

"Those bastards" murmured Nick, nodding his head toward the yellow flash far into the Desert.

"They tripped you?!" asked Sara in disbelief, just as a black four wheel drive crashed its way from a side path near the edge of the lake.

Nick nodded and the car slowed down so he could hop in, dripping wet.

"Alright Sara get goin'!" ordered Grissom.

A few other swimmers were stumbling their way up from the lake surface. Sara didn't need any more encouraging; she turned and started to jog, her feet hitting the sand in no more than a few seconds.

"And so thy great knight shall begin ye journey" said Greg, holding his hand out to salute Sara as the car followed closely by her side.

Warrick gave him a funny look, "You really do have brains in ya ass, don't ya Greg."

Nick gave a laugh and reached for a towel in the boot, "No they're somewhere else!"

"Shut up!"

"Leave him alone" advised Catherine from the passenger's seat. She reached over to the cup holders and took out an ice cold banana smoothie, "Here Nicky, we got these just before your heat started. It's still cold."

"Oh, cool" said Nick taking his "Thanks."

Grissom was watching Sara running silently with determination, at a pace which made everyone else look silly. She was wearing a tight pink tank top, and matching shorts. Her body was perfect, and Grissom had to avert his eyes and focus on driving or else the car would end up toppling over. The team was busy switching through tracks on the radio.

"No that's sooooo old!" said Greg.

Catherine flipped the channel.

"Yeah yeah, leave it!" exclaimed Warrick.

Nick looked up from his smoothie cup and enjoyed the hot desert breeze billowing through his hair. It sure was a nice change. His eyes landed on the sweaty figure which was Sara.

"Oh my god Greg look! She has abs!" Nick exclaimed pointing to Sara's direction.

"Where lemmie see!" Greg pushed Nick out of the way and the two boys fought for a better view through the window.

"Stop perving on me, or I swear to god I'm gonna-"

"_TAKE A CHANCE YOU STUPID HOE" _sang Gwen Stefani from the radio. Everybody in the car (except Grissom) laughed.

"Sorry Sar" said Warrick catching her glare; he patted the radio, "Gotta love your music."

She muttered darkly under her breath and continued to place foot after foot, willing her body to focus. Her breathing was uneven, something which wasn't good. She knew she had to slow down her racing heart and spread out her energy or else the Las Vegas team wouldn't hold 2nd place for long. This was the hardest part, and some smart jackass had made the runners run not only _through _the Desert, but _over _the sand, which was a hundred times harder to travel over than a road. The sun was beating down hard on her back, and she was lucky if it didn't turn her into a shriveled prune by the end of this.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Nick said lazily, drinking his banana smoothie and enjoying the comforts of the four wheel drive, "Has anyone ever seen that movie Resident Evil: Extinction. You know with that hot girl runnin' everywhere in Nevada, being chased by zombies."

Greg jumped in his seat enthusiastically, "I've seen that movie, it rocks!"

Nick poked his head out of the window, "Hey Sar!"

Sara, who was still running at a rather fast pace, threw him a dirty look.

"Just pretend you're being chased by a zombie, that'll hurry ya up!" Nick smiled.

Sara glared at him and pulled up her middle finger, teaching Nick the most basic form of sign language. Catherine laughed from the front seat.

"Your doin' great Sara!" Warrick encouraged, "Only 9 more miles to go and you're done."

She let out a frustrated shriek and turned back to the road in front of her, trying not to pay any attention to the car hauling itself alongside her. They were all up for it big time once she was through with this! Just they wait! They wouldn't know what had hit them! This new thought only fueled her anger, making her run faster.

* * *

Sara crossed another 7 miles with great difficulty, stopping on more than one occasion. For one thing she wasn't born to run, and it was never one of her best skills (Today however she seemed to be proving herself wrong). For another the 5 people, or 4 literally because silently Grissom was watching her every move, were driving her insane with their constant chatter and jibes. She had half a mind to jump into the car and be driven the rest of the way. This part of the course was where a lot of the teams crashed out and Sara could completely understand why. And she was sweating that much, it wasn't funny.

"Come on Sar only another incy mile left" encouraged Catherine, "Your doin' great!"

Sara gave her an appreciated smile.

Grissom suddenly sat up straighter in his seat as if he'd been stung, eyes squinting behind his sunglasses.

"What's wrong?" asked Catherine.

"We still have a chance" he said into the silence. He pointed into the distance.

The flash of bright yellow, glinting in the sun was like a beacon to their hungry eyes.

"We're gaining on those sons a bi-!"

"Alright! We get the point!" snapped Catherine at Nick, "Common Sara push harder!"

"Yeah common push!" shouted Greg wedged between Nick and Warrick, "You're nearly there!"

"Make it sound like I'm in labor, why don't you?!" she shrieked, pulling her stiff body faster.

"Sorry"

The team continued to shout encouragements to Sara and this seemed to boost her deadened spirit. And gradually the car sped up, along with Sara's renewed pace, even though her legs felt like chunks of lead. Closer and closer they drew to the San Francisco team, they could even see the black SUV quite clearly beside Cynthia's bobbing form. Sara willed her legs to move faster. In all her time in San Francisco, when she was just starting out as a Crime Scene Investigator, she didn't fit in with her team. A brunette amongst a sea of blonde hair blue eyes, wasn't a great mixture In _that _building. This was Sara's chance to prove them all that she wasn't weak, and that she was now the happiest being in Vegas.

"Your doin' great Sar!"

"Don't mess this up!" demanded Greg, "I didn't almost kill everyone for nothin' you know." He touched his leg, which was still sore and winced.

Sara gave a low laugh as they begun to level up with their opponents and the four wheel drive roared onto the other side of the two running women. Cynthia turned her head in surprise, mouth agape slightly.

"Sidle!"

"What?!"

Cynthia threw her a dirty look, "Go ta hell! This ones San Francisco's."

Sara laughed sarcastically as they drew closer, and completely level. The two opposing cars floored it, the passengers and drivers throwing each other evil looks.

"There's the finish line!" someone from _their_ car shouted.

Everyone looked ahead. There was a fairly large crowd gathered on either side of a final, black and gold running strip and a long tape at the end which said 'FINSH' all over it. Sara's heart leapt in her throat. This was it.

"Common Sara!"

"Kick her ass Cyn!"

"Kick_ his_ ass Sar!"

"Screw you, cowboy!"

The two women tore on, hair whipping out behind them. The cheering and whistling of the crowd was enormous as they reached them. The two cars stopped dead before they plowed into the onlookers and everyone got out, tensely watching the two women. Cynthia and Sara bolted down the final strip, pushing and shoving each other into the fence, at one point Sara swiped at her and thought she heard a _rip_. But she hadn't come all this way, through the Desert to lose now. With an air of confidence Sara put on a boost of speed and the finish line was there, right there when…..Cynthia pulled her foot out. And Sara skidded to the floor with a _smack_, scraping her knees and elbows painfully.

Cynthia gave a smile and the crowd 'booed!' while she ran over the finish line, bringing the tape down with her. It seemed San Francisco had won yet again. Yet down on the floor Sara looked back, at the disappointed faces of her team, at the wild jumping and cheering the yellow team were displaying and at the stillness of the crowd. And she spotted something yellow on the ground, a few meters back.

With a determined smile, Sara Sidle dragged herself on, and over the finish line groaning, "We won."

* * *

**A:N/ Sorry for the late chap, I've had to go back to school and its been a nightmare, I really hate that place…**

**Anyway thanks for reviews guys they're great. Last chapter will be up shortly since I've already written most of it anyway ;)**

**Sorry if there are a few errors, I wrote this late into the night and I really need a betta reader.**

**Sar'z**


	8. Gil Grissom We Won

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigation**

**Chapter Eight**

**Gil Grissom**

"**We Won" **

It was a few days layer that the awards ceremony actually began (winning $50, 000 dollars was a big deal for the Crime Labs, who needed constant funding) and it took place in one of the many fancy casinos in Las Vegas. Grissom hardly ever attended these kinds of celebrations, unless a murder had occurred and his team was called in. So it was a funny feeling to dress up in a neat tuxedo on the evening, glancing at himself in the mirror as he left his house. All the way there his thoughts were wandering to Sara.

After she had limped across the finish line, there was uproar. San Francisco had indeed dropped their baton and the team weren't taking too well toward one very angry Cynthia in the end. Not only did they drop their baton, but they would have been disqualified anyway, after all the cheating they did. The fact that Sara had actually forced herself to finish the race, even though she was injured, made Grissom's heart swell in pride. He smiled.

When Grissom arrived and entered the large hall, he was greeted by a swarming crowd either dancing, hanging out by the many round tables or mingling, wine glasses chinking and a low rumbling of chatter.

"Grissom!" someone called, and Catherine pushed her way forward. She was wearing an attractive red dress, long blonde hair cascading out over her shoulders.

"You look nice" said Grissom politely.

"Thanks"

"Have you seen the others?"

Catherine pointed to a small group over at a table, right near the dance floor. They both edged their way along through the crowd and to the rest of the team, who greeted their boss.

"Well congratulations, all of you" said Brass, "I knew you'd show the day shift just how much their record for losing could be steamrolled."

"Where's Nick and Sara?" asked Grissom as he took a seat.

Warrick nodded his head over to the dance floor and Grissom felt his heart leap and drop at the same time. Sara was dancing with Nick, laughing as they twirled among all the other dancers. He felt a pang of jealousy.

Catherine smiled knowingly at him, "Go dance with her." She gave him a wink.

Grissom swallowed and sighed. The rest of his team smiled as he stood up and made his way over to the dancing couple bravely. Grissom blinked and tapped Nick on the shoulder, "May I"

Nick stopped and grinned at his boss moving aside so Grissom could take a shocked Sara as the music turned to a slower tune. She was wearing a nice and simple black dress which showed just how much of a woman she was.

"What's this?" she asked, smiling her brilliant gap toothed smile.

"I believe it's called dancing" he said as he slipped his hands around her waist.

She smiled against his shoulder as they moved slowly across the dance floor with all the other couples. She felt protected here, in his arms. Like she was at home, floating in an endless cloud of bliss. Grissom stroked her bare back and sighed, savoring the feeling of her delicate skin.

"How sweet!" squealed Catherine from her seat, "Don't they make a cute couple?"

"Yeah, so did Antony and Cleopatra and look what happened with them" murmured Greg, who felt a little queasy.

Warrick stood up and offered his arm to Catherine, "May I have this dance?"

She smiled down at him as Nick covered his snort with a fake cough. The couple left to join Sara and Grissom. Nick turned to Greg.

"'May I have this dance'?" he mimicked in a high squeaky voice, "How cheesy."

Back on the dance floor Grissom swirled Sara around and breathed in her scent.

"So what happened to Cynthia?" Grissom asked. Instantly he felt her body tense against hers.

"San Francisco are sore losers. They couldn't stand to lose so they flew home the night after it ended" said Sara bluntly.

Grissom laughed and leaned down to her ear, "Don't worry, she's not my kind."

"Oh really?"

"No" he gave her a small kiss, "You are."

She could feel her face blush as the song ended and Grissom pulled away and looked down at the brunette.

"Oh and um…Sara" he said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm really sorry for making you run."

She gave an evil laugh and fake punched him on the chest, "Oh, no! You're not let off the hook that easily! I'm still going to get you and the rest of the team back!"

Grissom's throat went dry.

* * *

An hour later after all the drinking and talking and dancing, everyone was seated, and a round of clapping started as the same short stocky little man from the beginning of the race stood up on stage.

He cleared his throat and the noise hushed down, "As we all know, this is a big reward and event for all of Our Crime Labs, and I won't bore you with a long and boring speech. Instead let us congratulate the winners of this competition."

He looked down at a piece of paper in his hands, "Mr. Gilbert Grissom, Miss Catherine Willows, Mr. Greg Sanders, Mr. Nick Stokes, Mr. Warrick Brown and Miss Sara Sidle, can you please come up here Team Las Vegas!"

There was a loud round of applause and a chorus of music started as the team got up, weaving through the tables and walked up onto the stage, Grissom at their lead. He had butterflies in his stomach as he shook hands with the man and was allowed to use the microphone to make his speech. As he cleared his throat (and nerves) all the pale faces bobbing in the blackness stared at him, unmoving.

"Hello. I'm happy to be here tonight and winning this has been a great achievement amongst our Lab" he begun, he turned to look at his team, "And it's all thanks to these people here that we won…"

Grissom suddenly noticed something; Sara wasn't up on stage with them. And as he turned away he noticed something else too, a small red dot the size of a pinprick was visible on Catherine's neck. Instantly Grissom's mind went on guard. Was there a sniper somewhere in this room waiting to shoot Catherine? Grissom paused in his speech, completely unsure what to do next as he eyed the red dot. That was until a loud echoing _bang _resounded throughout the hall, and he reacted on instinct pushing Catherine out of the red dots path.

"Grissom!" she cried, grabbing the front of his jacket as she fell away.

He tumbled right after her and Greg tried to catch them from falling, but their weight was too much and all three of them plowed into Nick and Warrick. The presentation music in the room faltered just as all five of them tumbled off stage and right into the food table, which collapsed with a loud groan. As Nick fell his foot got tangled in the long, billowing stage curtains and they were ripped of their hooks with a terrible noise. The hall froze as all the commotion happened, and people were gasping, beginning to get up.

The curtains had torn right through the line to a large net hovering on the ceiling, and a cascade of balloons were released onto five very disheveled people. They floated down and exploded with loud _pops! _On all the food. Greg, who was decorated in bits of roast chicken and lettuce, squealed and covered his head. A wet patch appeared near the zipper of his pants.

"That's gross man!" said Nick in disgust, his head buried in pudding.

Greg turned pink with embarrassment as he tried to cover up the patch on his pants.

"What the hell just happened?!" yelled Catherine from her place near the fruit, "Grissom!"

"You had a dot on you!" he quickly explained as a large crowd begun to gather around the destroyed table.

"So ya pushed her!" snapped a very frustrated Warrick, his frizzy hair sticky with alcohol and soda. Not to even mention the broken glass he was sitting on, "You pushed her 'cause she had a dot on her!"

"This tastes nice" said Nick distractingly licking the pudding from his face.

"You don't understand!" sighed Grissom, picking himself from the squished deserts, "It was a dot."

Warrick gritted his teeth and picked up a still intact treacle tart. Just as Grissom begun walking away toward the gathering crowd, Warrick pegged it at him and it smacked right into the back of his head. Everyone went silent. Waiting for Grissom's reaction as he slowly turned on the spot to glare at his friend.

"It's on!"

In the next second a custard pie was flying through the air and it hit Warrick smack bang in the face. He reached up and pulled the batter off his face, the custard was everywhere, his usually dark skin pale with food.

"Food Fight!" roared Greg pouncing on Nick and smothering his face in ice-cream.

"Get off me!" screamed Nick, remembering how Greg had wet himself earlier.

Catherine began laughing, until she got hit in the chest by Warrick and Grissom with a pile of custard pudding. She stopped and her eyes narrowed. Everything then was a frenzy of food flying through the air, and the team struggling around in the mess for more ammo amongst their giggles and curses. Some of the onlookers were laughing, others shaking their heads in disappointment. But all sound and movement was halted by a high pitched laugh. The team froze as the crowd parted to reveal a grinning Sara, holding a small metal tube.

"Damn thing wont work" she said holding up the laser.

The team stared at her wide eyed.

"That was you!" exclaimed an amazed Grissom.

Sara nodded, glee clear on her face.

The team all looked at each other and simultaneously, picked up a piece of food. Then all five pieces flew toward Sara. But it didn't matter, making them all look like idiots in public was all worth it.

**End**

**A:N/ Well that story was a wild thrown out one. Hope you liked it even if I didn't, i just haven't had much motivation lately so im not writing like i used to. But thanks to all who read and an even bigger thanks to everyone who reviewed. People are encouraged to write more that way. Anyway until next time.**

**Sar'z**


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